SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN.
W, M. CHENEY, Publisher.
TOL. VII.
THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY.
There's many a nobleman dwells in a cot,
The palace holds many a clown;
And princes have beds of the tamarind bark,
While beggars have couches of down.
Brave kings are in cotton, serfs glory in silk,
While slaves like an emperor show;
For the worth of a title is stamped on the
heart,
But the world doesn't look at it so.
Here misers are prodigally flinging their
gold
To spendthrifts who hoard in their wake;
There mumbles a rake in the gown of a
priest
To a priest in the garb of a rake.
Sweet saints they are living in hovels of sin
And sinners in Sanctified Row;
The heart in the breast is the only true test—
But the world doesn't look at it so.
There are generals lying in graves unmarked
And privates with monuments grand;
The ignorant stalk in the chambers of state,
But the quiet mind ruleth the land.
A shadow divergent each object of earth
O'ercasts from one sun in the sky;
And fancies are many as beings have birth,
But the one God ruleth on high.
So I laugh at that title; that's only a sham,
And at caste—but a silver-washed plate
Stuck up on the door cf a tenement grand,
Belonging to nature's estate.
Its inmates are constantly changing and pass
Each year out of sight, like the snow.
Whose going but stirs up the filth of the
street;
And the Almighty will look at it so.
—Arkantaw Traveler.
THE COMPANY'S MONEY
"Good-bv, old fellow, good-by. I
trust you will have a good voyage, if you
must start in such beastly weather," I
said, as I shook hands with Hugh Grey
ham, the truest friend I have in the
world, and saw him go out into storm
and night. He was to take the steamer
early the next morning for Liverpool,
and I felt a little uneasy at his going in
the worst days of severe February.
My wife drew up her chair close by mine,
lighted my pipe, and said: "Now,
George, that he has gone, suppose you
tell me that little yarn you promised,
about the time you and Hugh had such a
quarrel."
All right. I said, it was this way.
\ou know what sort ox a man my father
was, Ellen—hard, cold, money loving,
bigoted. One naturally wants to speak
of one's parents with reverence when
they are lying in their graves, but—well,
let that pass. I did not love my father,
simply because I did not—so we'll just
leave the matter there. My mother died
the day I was born, so of her I knew ab
solutely nothing. A few years after her
death my father married again. Do you
know tliat people have a habit of speak
ing disparagingly of stepmothers? 1 can
not understand it. Mine was an angel.
She was a fair, stout woman, and some
times, even now, I covet the rest and
peace I used to feel with my poor little
head laid on her bosom, with her soft
arms about me. God bless her forever!
Many a cold night when my relentless
father for some trifle has sent me up to
my bleak room supperless to bed has this
sweet woman stolen after me, and fold
ing me in her warm arms has sung me to
sleep, She loved me sincerely, poor
hapless boy that I was! I think I adored
her.
Well, she made my father educate me
and give me my training in pharmacy;
so when he died I was twenty-two years
old and a drug clerk on a very small sal
ary. My father was supposed to be not
rich, but very comfortable. And so he
was, but on reading his will we found
the bulk of his property given to charity
—myself entirely ignored and my sweet
mother left a paltry 87000 to recompense
her for more than a score of faithful
years with him! Well, she didn't com
plain—not she; she only said:
"Georgie, dear, we'll take our seven
thousand and fight our way through Life
together."
We moved to a city further south. I
bought out a business in a poor part of
the town and went to work. The city
grew gradually toward us and you know
the rest. I prospered always and we
•were very happy. We lived just for each
other and she managed our modest home.
It was a home with an angel in it, and
again I say, God bless her.
After I had been in business about five
years I met Hugh Greyham. He is an
Englishman, you know, and had come to
this country to look after some invest
ment made in real estate by a syndicate
in London. 1 liked him from the first
and mother and he became the best of
friends. He often left his elegant hotel
to spend a week with us and declared he
was happier there than anywhere else.
In the fall of 'B6 he was making us just
such a visit, and one night we all three
mt up very late talking. I was in es
LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, AUGUST 30, 1889.
pecially good spirits because I had in my
cash box a clean S3OOO to take to the
bank the next day. Hugh had also in his
pocketbook 81500, but as he said, he was
"not feeling" so awfully good, as it be
longed to his company and not to him
self. I remember about one o'clock
mother drove us off to bed.
The next morning I was aroused out
of a deep sleep by Hugh. He looked
anxious and excited.
"Why, what is the matter, old boy?"
I asked, hardly awake.
"George I have been robbed in the
night—my hunting watch is gone, and,
God help me, the company's money too!"
" Gracious heavens!" was all I could
say as I sprang up and got into my clothes
with all possible dispatch.
Well, as you may imagine, we went
into an exhaustive search—upstairs and
down—everywhere. Then we called in
the police. Not a trace—not a track
could we find. Window locks, door
locks, all unharmed. What could it
mean? Four days we devoted our best
energies to this affair, and at the end of
that time was as far off as ever.
On the fourth night I had a splitting
headache and had togo to bed, but Hugh
and mother sat up later, sis usual. The
next morning I went down to breakfast
feeling much better aud eager to begin
search again. Mother and Hugh were at
the table. I kissed her as usual and said
a hearty "good morning" to him. He
nodded slightly and immediately got up
and went out. I looked at mother for an
explanation. Her eyes were full of tears
and her whole expression was unutter
ably sad.
"Mother," I said, "don't be so dis
tressed. We must find Hugh's things.
Don't give up."
"We have found them, Georgie," she
said very sadly.
"You have," I exclaimed. "Do tell
me where, where?"
"Oh," she said, "I found them late
last night where the—the—careless person
must have dropped them."
A red flush covered her face. Was my
mother telling an untruth i I questioned
her closely, but got little satisfaction in
deed. She evaded my questions. I felt
a little hurt at her want of confidence,
but I went to work and tried to forget
it all.
Later in the day I learned that Hugh
had gone West without a word of fare
well.
And now followed the most unhappy
weeks of my life. My dear mother was
entirely kind and gentle with me; even,
perhaps, more affectionate than usual.
But there was something between us. I
could not tell what, but something. And
she! the most cheery brightest woman in
the world—she seemed utterly oppressed
with sorrow. My heart ached over it all,
but what could I do? Lo, the weeks wont
on. gloomy enough, and two months had
passed when I was startled out of my sad
ness by a sudden misfortune which oc
curred to myself.
I had drawn §I3OO from the bank to
pay a bill for drugs, and for the night
placed it for safe keeping in a small escri
toire in my bedroom, of which I always
kept the key in my vest pocket. (You
see, little lady, in those days I was a
spoony fellow, aud this was the sacred
depository of your letters.)
Ongoing to the escritoire the next
morning I found it securely locked, but
on opening it the money was missing.
The house had been robbed a second
time.'
Iran to the breakfast room with my
bad news, and there sat my mother, with
the old bright, jolly look on her dear
face, looking perfectly happy and con
tented. I was delighted to find the sad
ness and gloom gone, but alas! I must tell
my direful news.
"Mother," I said, "mother, I've been
robbed! My money (you saw me put it
away last night, didn't you?) is all gone!"
I thought she would utter an exclama
tion of distress, or surprise at least, but
what did this unaccountable woman do?
She got up, led me to the sofa and pulled
my head down on her broad shoulder, as
she had done a hundred times in my child
hood days, and kissed my forehead and
eyes, and then, with a sort of tender
humility, kissed my hand.
"Oh, Georgie, my boy, mv own boy,"
she said, "I've got a story to tell you.
Don't say one single word, only listen,
my darling. Oh," she exclaimed sud
denly. "these miserable, miserable, mis
erable weeks, when I thought—but let
me tell my tale. You know, dear, last
October Hugh lost his watch and money
and we all tried so faithfully to find them.
Well, I was worried nearly to death
about it all. I hardly slept an hour at
night. On the fourth »ta;y, you remem
ber, you received a letter from Ellen, and
as a man was waiting to see you in the
store, you handed me year keys and said:
♦Mother, please put her letter away for
me.' I took the keys, Imt being myself
very busy at that moment, did not put
the letter in the desk just then; but that
night, after you retired, I unlocked the
little escritoire, and there, in your own
most private drawer lay Hugh's watch
and money! And he was .standing near
and saw it, too. Georgie, dear, don't
say a word, not a word just yet; hear it
all, my boy, before you open your lips. I
was stunned for a moment, then I fell on
my knees at Hugh's feet. T said: 'Havij,
mercy. Oh! please have mercy on my
poor boy,' and he, looking so shocked
and sad, said: 'For your faithful sake,
dear madam, no one shall ever know this
but you and I.'
"You know what followed, Georgie—
how I went about heart-broken, and all
day long, aud all the long nights, the
horrible thought kept dinning in my
head : 'Your boy is a thief! Your boy is
a thief!' and yet I loved you Georgie, all
through, my boy—all Shrough.
"Well, yesterday yoi: had a great deal
to do and were very tired in the evening.
After dinner I told you to lie down and
rest. In two minutes you were fast asleep.
I sat reading and occasionally looking at
you, thinking how profoundly you slept.
After a while, still with your eyes fast
closed and evidently fast asleep, you got
up and started out of the door. 1 fol
lowed. You went to your bedroom, un
locked your escritoire, took out your
money, went down to 4he next floor and,
without stopping, on down into the
cellar. You know I keep a few stores
there, and had yesterday (with your help)
putin a barrel of new apples. You
went to this, lifted the top. and most
carefully took out about a dozen, then,
just as carefully, put your roll of money
into the barrel and covered it again with
the apples. Then, very slowly, you
turned around, walked up the steps and
sitting room, lay down ou the sofa and
resumed your nap as quietly as if nothing
had happened. Well, Iran back, locked
the cellar door and took a seat by your
side and cried my heart out for very joy,
like the silly goose that I am.
"It was all explained now. You did
steal Hugh's watch aud money, Georgie,
but you did it as unconsciously as if you
had been dead when it was done. Oh!
this has been certainly the happiest morn
ing of my life," and she began anew to
weep and laugh over me in the tenderest
and most absurd fashion.
"But, mother," I said, "seeing is be
lieving. Let's go and find the money."
We went. It was all there—just a
little soiled from cellar dust and apple
juice.
Well, mother wrote a long letter to
Hugh, and he came and ate his Christ
mas dinner with us, and was almost as
glad and happy as mother was, but when
we went upstairs to bed ho lnughcd and
said:
"Shut your eyes, old fellow, until I
hide my watch," and since then we have
no end of jokes about my sleep-walking.
My pretty young wife looks up with a
pair of anxious blue eyes.
"But, Georgie," she says,"this is
dreadful! You are liable to walk any
night and get into all sorts of trouble."
"No, indeed," I say, "I will never
walk in my sleep again."
"But how will you help it, Georgie?"
"Why, haven't I just engaged a pair
of white arms to hold me tight?"
She got up, drew back the curtain,
and remarked in a casual manner that
"it was raining very hard, indeed."—
New York Graph ic.
A Curious Well.
A well has lately been bored on A1 Mc
intosh's ranch, near Nelson, which has
produced water somewhat, different than
the usual run. Tho well was bored down
100 feet, and all tho whilo no gravol was
found. This seemed quite curious, as
there are two wells, ono on each side, that
are only eighteen feet deep. When Mr.
Mcintosh got down 100 feet he struck
quicksand and attempted to pump it out,
but he could not make the pumps work.
The water immediately filled up the well,
but it emitted a very peculiar and un
pleasant aroma. It was thought by some
that they had found natural gas, while
others pronounced it, sulphur water. No
scientific investigation has been made yet,
but it is thought that the well will be a
profitable thing which ever way it turns
out.— Ohieo {Oal.) Chronicle-Record.
It may sound a little queer, but the
third river in Scotland is the Forth.
ELECTING A POPE.
HOW THE PONTIFICAL SUCCES
SOR IS CHOSEN.
Past and Present Methods—Wlierc
and How Cardinal* Meet in
Conclave Secrecy of
the Proceedings.
The manner of electing a Pope of the
Roman Church is not an uninteresting
subject at the present time, in view of
the feeble health of the reigning Pontiff,
Leo XIII., and the probable necessity for
the naming of his successor at no distant
day.
was '\vhen the election of the
supreme head of the Church was vested
in the Cardinal Bishops, "with the con
sent of the other Cardinals and the clergy
and people of Rome, saving, also, the
honor due to the King of the Romans."
But this recognition of a kingly and im
perial right to interfere with Papal elec
tions was the cause of endless troubles.
It proved to be a fertile source of anti-
Popes and other vexations, and finally
became so intolerable that Alexander
111., took away from the imperial line
the locus kt intii in Papal elections; and a
General Council later on, held at the
Lateran, decreed that the election should
thenceforth rest "with the Cardinals
alone." This Lateran decree was con
firmed and developed at the Council of
Lyons, presided over by Pope Gregory
X., and in all its substantial features the
discipline then laid down still obtains in
all Papal elections.
The immediate body or convention
which chooses the head of the church is
called a conclave; the building o- hall in
which such convention is held is also de
signated by the same name—conclave.
The election of a Pope must begin ten
days after the death of the last incum
bent. It is provided that the election
shall neither be delayed nor precipitated;
that the electors should be in no fear for
their personal safety, and that they must
not be subjected to any external persua
sion in casting their vote. Immediately
upon the death of a Pope one of the
secretaries of the Sacred College notifies
each Cardinal of the Pontiff's demise, and
summons them to the city in which the
Pope breathed his last. The election
must take place in the same city where
death occurs.
Should Leo XIII. goto Madrid for an
asylum, as has been mooted, and die there,
the conclave to elect his successor would
therefore be held in Madrid. Within the
ten days the conclave must be constructed
in the Vatican at Rome, or in some other
suitable building if it be held in another
city. On the tenth day solemn mass is
said, at the conclusion of which the Car
dinals form in procession and march to
the conclave. The conclave is open to
the public during the whole of the first
day, and friends of the electors are per
mitted to visit them. At nine o'clock
that evening the conclave is closed; every
body is turned out except the Cardinals
and their immediate attendants, and no
visitors are allowed to enter the portals
again until the election of a Pope has
been declared.
Tho conclave is under the absolute
charge of two guardians. One of these
is a prelate of high standing, previously
selected by the Sacred College, and is
called the Governor. The other is a
prominent layman, whose official appella
tion is Marshal. Each Cardinal is allowed
to have two members of his resident
household in personal attendance upon
him. A number of other attendants and
minor officials are also there in common
service of the conclave, including a sacrist,
a monk or friar to hear confessions, two
or three barbers, eight or ten porters and
a number of messengers. But one en
trance to the building is allowed to re
main open, and that is in charge of pre
late officials.
They must exercise a strict surveil
lance over everybody going in or out, and
prevent the entrance of unauthorized per
sons. They must also examine the food
brought for the Cardinals, for the pur
pose of preventing outside communica
tion with them through this channel.
Three days after the commencement of
the conclave, if no result hasbeen attained,
the supply of food is restricted. The
rule used to prevail that if at the end of
five days no election had been made the
Cardinals were compelled to subsist upon
bread, wine and water, but during the
last half century the rigor of this rule has
been much abated and modified.
Every worniDg and evening the Cardi
nals meet in the chapel, and a secre;
scrutiny, by means of voting papers, is
instituted, so as to ascertain if any can
didate has obtained the required ma
Terms—sl.2s in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months,
jority of two-thirds. There arc three
valid modes of election. The first of
these, and the ordinary method, is by
scrutiny; the second, compromise, and
the third by what is known as quasi in
spiration. By compromise is meant when
all the Cardinals, finding that it is an im
possibility for any candidate to be elected
under the method of scrutiny, agree to
intrust the election to a committee of
three or five of their number. The last
time that "compromise" was resorted to
was in 1799, when the conclave, after
six months of scrutiny, appointed a com
mittee of three Cardinals, who elected
Pope Pius VII.
It will readily bo seen how difficult,
under the ten-day law and ordinry cir
cumstances, it would be for an American
Cardinal to participate in the election of
a Pope. A Cardinal coming from a dis
tance has the privilege of entering into
the conclave after its closure, provided
he announces his intention to claim the
right within three days after his arrival
in the city where it is being held; but
under peaceful and harmonious con
ditions conclaves are usually of short du
ration, and would finish their work be
fore an American Cardinal could reach
the place of holding.— Bidtimore Sun.
Goldsn Hair the Poet's Ideal.
Golden hair seems to have been the
delight of the old poets aud painters.
It has been stated that in the London
National Gallery, from the idealistic
brush of Correggio to the prodigal brush
of Rubens, there is not a single black
haired beauty. They all seized upon
golden tresses with the same inborn in
stinct. Shakespeare had a decided pief
erence for golden hair and makes fre
quent reference to it. Portia had
"sunny locks" hanging "on her temples
like the golden fleece." Julia, in the
"Two Gentlemen of Verona," says of
Sylvia and herself: "Her hair is auburn,
mine is perfect yellow." He only men
tions black hair twice throughout his en
tire plays. Milton, in his "Comus,"
speaks of"the loose train of amber drop
ping hair," while Allan Cunningham
must have had similar hair in his mind
when he wrote:
"Her hair down-gushing in an armful flows,
And floods her ivory neck, and glitters as she
goes."
In those old days false hair was more
fashionable than it is now. Fair hair
was especially the rage and golden tints
were so much prized that the price paid
for it was nearly double its weight in sil
ver. When yellow hair was in fashion
in London and Paris i' was no uncom
mon thing to pay from 4 r 5 to 8100 for
a long plait of really gola hair. Actual
white hair is very costly; Sv is brown, if
of a very fine texture. Hoi xe Walpole
mentions that the Countess of Suffolk
sold her hair, which was "fine, long and
fair," for SIOO. She had invited friends
to dinner, and being disappointed be
cause a remittance did not come to hand,
sold her hair to pay for the entertainment.
—Detroit Press Press.
The Ducking Stool.
The ducking stool is a curious relic of
barbarism, and consists of a plank with
a chair securely fastened on one end. The
plank is fastened, see-saw fashion, to an
upright post.
The common scold in "ye olden time"
was escorted to a ducking pond amid the
hoots and yells of the neighbors and
their children. She was then placed in
the chair and bound. Usually one of the
most abused of her victims was given the
pleasant revenge of playing this delight
ful—to the crowd—game of see-saw.
Of course every time the chair went
down it was submerged in the water, and
when it was pulled up the victim sput
tered and gasped, but seldom scolded.
The relentless crowd would keep her
high in the air until the water had nearly
all dripped from her clothing, and then,
amid howls of joy from the crowd and
shrieks of fright from the scold, the bath
was repeated several times. History re
lates that it usually had a salutary effect.
—New York Press.
Veneuvius is Laboring.
It is announced from Naples that the
small emptive cone of Vesuvius has
"fallen into its very depths," and that
the stream of outflowing lava has arrived
at the foot of the great cone. The seis
mic apparatus at the observatory indicates
that the disturbance is decreasing in
force. It was noticed that at very nearly
the time when volcanic action commenced
at Vesuvius the volcanic mountain of
Lipari made an unusul display. From
the crater arose smoke mixed with fine
ashes, which fell in tine rain all over the
area of the Jiolian islands.— Picayune.
NO. 47.
FUN.
Flies everywhere. Even time flies.
Dead reckoning—The undertaker's
bill.
Forced politeness—Bowing to neces
sity.
A solid man—The ossified African at a
dime museum.— Mail and Kxprea.
There is not much sentiment about a
Chinese laundrymau, yet he daily wrings
men's bosoms.— Nev> York Journal.
He—"Come, now; let's kiss and make
up." She—"No, sir; I won't." He—
"Well, let's kiss anyhow."— tiomerville
Journal.
"How can I get ahead?" asked a dull
boy of a pessimist. "By raising cab
bages," was the consoling reply.— New
York Journal.
"Have you a cigar about you?" "No;
I don't buy any now." "What! and
why, then?" "Because I want to break
you of the habit of smoking."— Fltitjende
Blaetter.
It is said that the hogs in this country
are double the value of the sheep. Is
that the reason why the railway hog
monopolizes two seats in a car while some
sheep-faced man is compelled to stand?
—Sifting).
Frank—"The deuce he did! And
what did the General say?" Kate—"Pa
pa said that if I married young Ellaby
he'd cut me off with a shilling." Frank—
"Bravo! Go it, Ellaby! And did you
mention me?" Kate—"Yes, Frank,
dear, I did. Papa said that if I married
you he'd cut me off without one."—
Time.
"Papa," said Amy, hesitatingly, "I—l
must confess something. Harry and I
had arranged to elope to-night, but my
conscience troubled me, and I just had
to tell you, and spoiled it all." "It need
not spoil it," replied the fond parent;
"go ahead and elope, but never tell I
knew it. It will save the expenses of a
wedding."— Harper'» Bazar.
Strange Things in Alaska.
"There are so many strange things in
Alaska," says the discoverer of the Muir
glacier, "that have not yet come to the
knowledge of the public that one who
has seen them hesitates where to begin.
Elephant remains are found all over the
great valley of the Yukon. As a matter
of fact, they are found everywhere
throughout the great western slope of
Alaska. Dana and Sir Charles Lyle
startled the world by announcing that
hairy frozen elephants were found
wedged among the Siberian icebergs.
But scarcely anybody knows that
throughout Alaska are the remains of
countless thousands of mastodons. You
can dig them out and find them on the
surface everywhere. I saw hundreds of
them, possibly, on my last trip, and lam
now anxiously trying to get up there to
complete my investigations. So thick
are the elephant remains that the native
Indians, on finding them buried partially
in the ground, decided that there were
some kind of great mole that burrows in
the soil. This is the story given me. I
collected a lot of remains. The collect
ing of elephant tusks every summer is a
regular business in Siberia, just over
Behring Sea. Wo have just as many of
them on the Alaska side as they ever had
in Siberia. Ages ago great herds of ele
phants roamed over these shores. Per
haps they existed down to a comparative
ly recent date, too, for the hairy bodies
and well-preserved bones were evidences
of that."
The King of the Sedangs.
•'The King of the Sedangs" is being
made much of and making much of him
self in Paris. His title is "Marie, Roi
des Sedangs." The Sedangs are an
Indo-Chinese folk, who inhabit a kind
of debatable land on the Annam-Siamese
frontier, notable for nothing so much as
its swamps. A speculative Frenchman,
31. de Mayrena, affirms that the tribes
men elected him their King, though it
does not appear that they had any knowl
edge of such an office. As "Roi des
Sedangs" he appeared in Hanoi !ind
Hong Kong, with the object of trying to
float a loan for the development of his
territories. Colonial capitalists knew
too much of Sedang. and so King Marie
is attempting to work off his Sedang
bonds in Paris.
Great Britain owns nearly half of the
North American continent and twenty of
the principal islands of the West Indies.
She also has a colony in Central America,
another in South America, and her capi
talists have invested in railway and gov
ermental securities of the various nation*
of South America at least eight hundred
million dollars.